Snow Vacancy
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: A different kind of dark and stormy night. Hannibal and Amy are cut off from the rest of the Team after a mission and forced to take refuge for the night from a vicious snowstorm, but what lies ahead for them is no winter wonderland.
1. Chapter 1

Snow Vacancy

"Let's take _two_ cars, we'll catch _right_ up," Amy grumbled to herself as she rubbed her hands together and tried to get them warm, "Sure, Hannibal, sure."

Wintertime in New York, her least favorite season to be anywhere outside of Los Angeles; but she had come as a favor to the A-Team to help them out on their latest mission. They'd managed to get out to the East Coast before the snow hit, and the frigid weather had _just_ started as the Team was wrapping things up with the goon squad of protection racket hired muscle they'd spent three days planning against for a final showdown of busting heads together.

Unfortunately somebody put the word out that the A-Team was in town and Lynch and the MPs somehow showed up in record time for getting cross country; Hannibal was always in the philosophy of 'either we all go or nobody goes, nobody gets left behind', but Amy found out he was also surprisingly of the 'go down with the ship' kind of guy. He'd told B.A. and Face and Murdock to get out of the city and out of New York. None of them were in a rush to get back to Los Angeles since Lynch would obviously go there next once he was convinced that the A-Team had gotten away providing he couldn't keep a tail on them. Hannibal had told them to head south to one of the Carolinas or Georgia or someplace where it'd be at least 20-30 degrees warmer and _no_ snow, and they'd catch up and make contact soon. There was still the matter of turning their new friends over to the proper authorities and Hannibal wasn't going to leave that to someone else, and he wouldn't risk his men's freedom for the opportunity either; _he_ could get away if they caught him, and he knew it, but it'd be easier for just _him_ to escape if need be than the whole lot of them. Amy would be dismissed and released if she was found with him, she was no threat to the military.

It had been a fine tap dance around the MPs, but Hannibal had pulled it off, the bad guys were dropped off at the corner outside the police station, a moderate fee was collected by their clients, then he and Amy decided to get out of dodge as well. And all had been going well, until the snowstorm picked up. Hannibal considered himself a man who could handle anything, and likewise could drive anything, in _any_ kind of weather. Ordinarily that might've been true, but they were not wont to taking cases in snowy climates, what more in _icy_ climates, and before either of them was really aware of what had happened, they skidded and slid and went off the road, and _just_ avoided colliding with a streetlight on the way.

"We're _never_ going to make it to South Carolina like this," Hannibal said.

"We're not even going to make it to New Jersey at this rate," Amy told him.

Hannibal managed to get the car back on the road but their luck didn't fair much better from there. Through the snow that was coming down like some maniacal kid was dumping it out of a box straight on them, Hannibal managed to get them to a payphone, and that's exactly where they were now; him in the phone booth talking to Face or B.A. or somebody, while Amy sat in the car and tried to get warm, though the heater was being of next to no use whatsoever.

After a few minutes, Amy saw Hannibal trudging through the snow back her way. Though she was already in the passenger side, she moved over as the door opened and he got back in.

"Well?" she asked.

Hannibal pulled the door shut and told her, "Face says they got their own problems where they are, apparently _they've_ got a tornado to deal with, and they think it's going to carry on all night."

"A tornado in December?" Amy asked.

The cold was apparently even eating through Hannibal's trademark gloves and he tried rubbing his own hands together as he said, "You know as well as I do they can occur at any time of the year, provided the weather conditions are right."

"I thought tornado season _ended_ in November," Amy said.

"Br-r-r-r-r," Hannibal's teeth chattered, "In Kansas maybe, other places, no." He looked at the devastated young reporter and told her, "He said they'd get back our way first thing in the morning if possible."

"And what do we do in the meantime?" Amy asked, and gestured to the snow continuing to pour outside the windshield, "This weather's getting worse."

"Your lack of imagination disturbs me," Hannibal told her, "We'll just get a motel room for the night."

"Well hurry," Amy said as she leaned back in her seat and wrapped her arms tightly against herself, "I don't think we'll be able to last in much more of this."

"Alright," Hannibal threw the car into gear and tried again.

"Hannibal," Amy said threateningly over chattering teeth as her whole body shivered with cold, "If you ever ask me to help you on a mission again _before_ the spring thaw, it had better be in a tropical climate."

In spite of all the preparation Hannibal had had in training his body _against_ the elements, to ignore extreme heat or cold, his whole body was tensing up on him in response to the cold as well and he told Amy, "I'm inclined to agree with you. Fortunately we don't get too many cases in cold climates _during_ the cold season."

Outside the car, they could hear a massive wind pick up, and it seemed to be howling, like in the 30's old dark house movies. Amy pulled her coat tighter against herself as if protecting herself against the vicious winds and said, "I just want to get back home to L.A. and lay in the burning sun for about six hours."

A small sound of content escaped from Hannibal's throat as he considered that mental image and said, "Sounds good to me too."

Amy reached for the radio knobs and said, "I wonder if there's a weather advisory for tonight or if this is just status quo for this time of the year?"

"Kid," Hannibal said in passing, "I don't think this is status quo for _Alaska_ at this time of year."

Going from station to station, they picked up a lot of static, and a few rock music stations, then they managed to get somebody who was actually talking, but it wasn't the weather report.

"_Tri-state area, in their effort to apprehend the fugitives."_

"They _can't_ be talking about _you_ guys!" Amy said as she looked over towards Hannibal.

Hannibal shushed her and reached for the volume knob so they could hear what the reporter was saying.

"_The daring daylight escape of the two convicted murderers left two guards of the maximum security prison in critical condition."_

"Nope," Hannibal answered smugly, "They're _not_ talking about us."

"Shh!" Amy told him.

"…_Convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Hess is described as follows: Caucasian, 27 years old, 6 feet tall, 180 pounds, hair: black, eye color: brown, identifiable by a scar on right cheek. Description for Ramsey is as follows: Caucasian, 25 years old, 5 foot 10 inches, 160 pounds, hair color: brown, eye color: blue, no known identifying marks."_

Amy looked at Hannibal, saying nothing but her eyes suggesting plenty, wondering if it was possible they could encounter those people out here tonight? Hannibal didn't say anything either, but he suddenly felt like they'd gone through a time warp and had wound up back in some bad 70s horror movie.

"…_Were sentenced in the brutal murders of a family of five in 1979, police are advising the public to…"_

Hannibal reached over and shut the radio off, "Yeah yeah, same old, same old."

"What'd you turn it off for?" Amy asked.

"They're not going to tell us anything we don't already know," Hannibal told her, "If we see them we're not calling the cops."

"We're not?" Amy asked in disbelief.

"Well…not _right away_ anyway," Hannibal replied.

"Hannibal, didn't you hear them?" Amy asked, "They killed a whole family."

"I know," Hannibal told her, "Which is why if we see them, we won't ask questions first, we won't ask questions _period_."

Amy shivered both due to the cold and the sudden streak of fear that was ripping through her. She reached over and turned the radio on again.

"_Hess and Ramsey are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous, police are advising citizens __not__ to confront the fugitives if seen, call your local police department immediately."_

"G-g-good luck with that," Hannibal said as the cold particularly ripped through him in that moment, "In this weather? They'll _never_ make it."

Amy could see the roads were getting even worse and she asked Hannibal, "Won't they get somebody to plow the streets?"

"_Eventually_," Hannibal said, "But who's going to want to go out this late at night to do it? All the _smart_ people are already home where it's warm and most likely in bed."

Amy choked out a particularly loud b-r-r-r-r-r as the cold got to her too and she replied, "Which would explain _us_ right now stuck _out here_ tonight, right?"

"Be quiet," Hannibal told her.

She was, for about a minute, aside from the sounds she made as her whole body shivered, then she spoke up, "Hannibal?"

"_What_?"

"Do you think we _could_ run into those guys that broke out of the prison?" she asked.

"I doubt it," Hannibal told her, "In this weather, with any luck, they'll probably fall in a snow bank somewhere and die of frostbite. And if that don't get 'em, maybe we'll get lucky and the Abominable Snowman will."

"V-v-very f-funny, Hannibal," Amy groaned. She crouched down to see out the windshield past the snow and said, "It just looks like we're stuck inside a giant snow globe."

"That sounds like the perfect plot for a TV show," Hannibal commented, "Find out your whole life is some kid's daydream looking inside a snow globe."

"That sounds like the Twilight Zone," Amy said.

"That's a dollhouse."

"If the snow doesn't let up, I think we're going to disappear into it completely," Amy said, starting to sound a little claustrophobic.

Hannibal kept his eyes peeled for the first sign of a place to stay the night. Finally, after what felt like forever, he saw a bright neon sign up ahead. It took a minute to see past the glare shining through the snow, "Ah, here we are."

Amy tried seeing past the snow and the blinding glare, and she saw the same sign he did.

MOTEL – VACANCY

Getting in somewhere out of the snow and being able to warm up for the night should've been seen as a godsend, but for some reason, Amy just got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't know about this," she quietly said to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

"Let's go," Hannibal told Amy, "You wanted to find a place to stop for the night."

"Why is this my fault?" Amy asked as she reached for her door, "I'm not the one who said 'let's take 2 cars' in the first place."

"Ha-ha," Hannibal dryly remarked as they got out and endured the pouring down snow once again as they made the sprint into the front office of the motel. It was cold enough that every breath they took poured out in a white cloud like smoke, or rather like the proverbial 'fog so thick you could cut it with a knife', and the cold burnt all the way down to Amy's lungs.

Getting past the doors and into the brightly lit room was already a large improvement, but Amy's whole body was wracked with chills as she tried to get warm, adjusting to the heat in the building.

"Well this looks like a nice and _tacky_ place," Hannibal said as he looked over the front desk, "I wonder where everyone is?" He pounded the bell a couple times and looked around for any sign of life.

Amy went to the door and looked out to the parking lot. There were a couple cars alongside theirs, but other than that…

"I wonder," she said lowly to herself. She knew that Hannibal already thought she was just being a paranoid nutcase, still she couldn't help remembering the news report on the radio. Then another thought occurred to her, she looked around the small room and asked, "Don't they usually keep a small TV around here so whoever manages the desk will have something to pass the time?"

"Why?" Hannibal asked as he turned towards her, "You want to catch the reruns of 'I Love Lucy' tonight or something?"

"The news," Amy said, "They might be showing the pictures of those two men."

"Come on, Amy."

"Hannibal," she replied lowly, still not quite able to convince herself that they were _not_ somewhere within earshot of them at this very moment, "What if they _are_ out there? What if they come _here_? I want to know, don't you?"

Hannibal peeled off one glove and bit down on a hangnail and told her, "I'm sure they've got better places to go, maybe someplace that isn't going to be buried in two feet of snow by sunup." Not letting much time pass between that thought and the next, he turned back to the desk and rang the bell again and asked, "Where the hell is everyone?" He raised his voice and called out, "HELLO!"

"_Sorry, I'm coming."_ They heard a muffled voice call out from the next room.

In stepped a man who looked like he was in his late 20s, about as tall as Hannibal, a little better built than the older man, short black unruly hair, brown eyes, looked more than just a bit shady. At the first sight of him, Amy did a double take and took one large step back as she got out a startled "Oh geez!" Her mind was scrambling doing a comparison to this man and the report on the radio. If this man _was_ going to be one of the two escaped killers, he would be Hess, but this man didn't have a scar on his face. All the same, despite all the dangerous encounters she'd gone on by herself and come out just fine, she was suddenly _very_ glad that she had a Green Beret with her here.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," Amy said as she tried to force herself to calm down, "I thought…" but how could she explain what she _did_ think?

Luckily Hannibal covered for her, "We had a little trouble out on the road and about went _off_ it entirely, thought we'd better stop off for the night, but her nerves are still a bit frazzled."

The man looked at them with almost a skeptical expression, but he just said, "That's understandable."

"Tell me you have a vacancy here," Hannibal said to the man.

"You're in luck," the man told him, "We have _one_ room left."

"One?" Amy asked, "But there're no cars out there."

"I know," the man replied, "Most of our customers for the night are unfortunate locals who tried walking home before the storm _really_ hit and unfortunately they didn't make it."

"No matter," Hannibal told the man and shook his head, "We'll take it."

"I'll need you to sign the register," the man handed the book to Hannibal, "And have you any luggage?"

"In the car," Hannibal said as he breathed on his hands to warm them up a little before picking up the pen, "My _sister_ and I were hoping to get out to Massachusetts before the blizzard hit but…"

"Sister?" the man asked.

Amy just about asked the exact same thing.

Hannibal looked at the man as though he didn't understand the problem, "Yeah, sister, as in her mother and father were _my_ mother and father." But the man standing on the opposite side of the desk had the same confused look on his face. Hannibal scratched his head and a thought came to him and he decided to try again, "Look," he pointed to himself and explained, "Firstborn," then pointed to Amy and told the man, "_Last_ born, 5 brothers and sisters between us. You get it now?"

"Oh of course," the man replied and glanced at the name Hannibal scribbled on the register, "Mr. West."

Amy looked at Hannibal questioningly, _West_?

A particularly large shiver worked its way through Amy's body and she chattered her teeth and said to Hannibal, "I'm cold, can we go to our room now?"

"How 'bout it, Pal?" Hannibal asked.

The man reached to the keys on the wall behind him and picked one and told him, "Room 4, not that I don't trust you, but how about $20 in advance?"

"What's the matter?" Hannibal asked as he reached under his coat to reach into his safari jacket pocket, "Don't you believe we have luggage in the car?"

"Pal," the man told him, "After working here for 20 years, I know better than to believe anything that anybody says when they come in here."

"Well!" Hannibal feigned offense, "If that's the kind of treatment we can expect, I don't think we'll come back here."

"No skin off my nose, friend," the man told him simply, "I can book up every room in this place any night of the week _without_ your business."

Hannibal saw the man looking past him, so he turned around and saw that Amy was still staring at him, with a very apprehensive look on her face.

"You sure she's alright?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Hannibal answered, "Just a little carsick, she does this all the time."

"Well," the man said, "I can show you to your room or…"

"No thanks, we'll find it," Hannibal said, then turned and grabbed Amy by the arm, "Come on, sis."

"Shouldn't be hard to miss," the man called after them, "It's the one right next to the room numbered 3, with a big rusty _4_ on it."

"Har-har-har," Hannibal replied as they left the front office.

Back out into the cold, past rooms 1, 2, 3, and finally to room 4. Hannibal unlocked the door and told Amy, "You head in, I'll get the stuff from the car."

"Thank you," Amy shivered as she stepped in and rubbed her hands together.

Amy closed the door but not all the way, so she could still hear what was going on outside, incase anything _did_ happen. But the truth was the wind was blowing so hard, it was difficult to hear much of anything else; it blew, it whistled, it howled, it did everything but scream. It was true there was certainly plenty of wind back in Los Angeles, but Amy couldn't ever remember it blowing this strong or this badly back home, or if it did, maybe she'd just never noticed before. But she was sure noticing now. It was impossible not to. Of course, one major difference that she knew was, the winds back home might blow in bad weather, might blow in dirt and sand kicked up from the ground, might even blow in lightweight objects from other parts of the city, but they _never_ blew in snow, especially not at the rate _this_ stuff was falling. Amy hadn't grown up in snow, she only got acquainted with it while on assignment in regions that knew it well, though those weren't common for her. She didn't think it was any stretch of the imagination to believe that by morning they could be completely buried in the stuff, and then what? How long would it be before they could get out of here? And get back on the road? And get out of New York? Let alone get back home to California? A week? A month? Or was it possible that they'd _never_ get out of this place? This place…that almost seemed to her as though it had…all the fine makings of a tomb; the cold, the otherwise _quiet_, that claustrophobic feeling of being cut off from all other life and even any sign of life. It was almost too perfect, if Amy didn't know better, she'd think it was all one cleverly concocted plot to keep them here long enough for the snow to build up on them, and then…

The door to the room flew open with a loud slam and Amy jumped back and screamed.

"Cut out the hysterics, will you?" Hannibal asked as he trudged into the room, already covered in snow and with both their suitcases in tow, "Give me a hand with this stuff or get ready to scrape it off the floor."

Despite having the advantage over Hannibal of being in the heated room while he was out in the sow, Amy still felt chills running clear through her body. She took her suitcase from the older man and said, "That wind sounds terrible…how long can it keep gusting for?"

"You kidding?" Hannibal asked, "You've never been in a bad storm a day in your life, have you? Get a _good_ strong wind storm going, it can last for a couple days." Amy groaned in despair. "You ever see that movie with Lillian Gish?"

"What movie?"

" 'The Wind'."

"No," Amy told him.

To look in Hannibal's eyes, it seemed that the Colonel was off in some nostalgia flashback as he recalled, "I saw it shortly after it first came out…" he was beaming from ear to ear, "Lillian Gish, she was a beauty, and not afraid of getting out in the elements and actually working…first the icy waters in 'Way Down East', then the extreme desert heat in 'The Wind', burnt off the skin on her hand, if that happened to one of these bleached screen bimbos today, they'd have a lawsuit going before you could blink."

"What was the movie about, Hannibal?" Amy asked as she finally decided to unzip her coat.

"It's called 'The Wind', put it together," he told her, not quite able to ignore her annoyed glare, "Young woman travels out west to be with her cousin, out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere surrounded by miles of sand, and high powered winds that never stop blowing; destroy the houses, pile sand up to the tops of the windows, eventually drives the women out there insane, herself included."

"How comforting," Amy dryly remarked.

Hannibal pointed a finger in her face and told her, "You can gripe all you want about _this_ weather, but until you have to wash plates in sand because the free flying dirt's overtaken all the water, you have _no_ idea what the wind is capable of doing."

Amy gawked at him and said flatly, "Thanks for that lovely thought." Another full-body shiver worked its way through her, but this time it wasn't just the mind numbing cold. "I wish we could've stopped somewhere for dinner, I'm hungry."

As if waiting for an invitation, Hannibal felt his own stomach grumbling in like, "Yeah, I know what you mean." He looked out the window and commented, "The only way we could get out to a diner in _this_ weather would be hitch a ride on a passing polar bear."

Amy put her suitcase on the bed, opened it and sorted through her stuff. In between a change of clothes and other daily necessities she packed for travel, she pulled out a box of crackers.

"Let me guess, you were a Girl Scout," Hannibal said.

"I don't think they have the same slogan of 'always be prepared'," Amy replied as she dug a couple out to munch on and handed the box to him.

"Thanks, kid."

"I don't get how people can live in this," Amy said, "Year after year, all this snow, all the ice…"

"Simple," Hannibal told her, "They have no choice."

"_Somebody_ would be able to get out and go someplace it's warmer," she said.

"They do," Hannibal replied, "The people that go to Hawaii for Christmas."

Amy was still freezing, she sat back on the bed and continued to shake and shiver and she said through chattering teeth, "All I want to do is take a hot shower and go to bed."

"Well you've got guts," Hannibal said, "Didn't you ever see 'Psycho'?"

"Yeah," she replied smugly, "That's why I brought along a big strong man with me."

"Ho-ho—hoooooh," Hannibal dryly responded as he headed over to the bathroom to see what it was even like.

Amy dug through her suitcase for a warm and dry…well, at least dry, set of clothes to change into, and she heard a noise coming from the bathroom that sounded like somebody pounding on the pipes.

"You can eighty-six that hot shower," Hannibal called out to the bedroom, "I think the pipes are frozen, there's no water."

Amy rolled her eyes and groaned, "_Terrific_. People actually pay good money to stay in a place like this?"

"Well the joke's on that guy," Hannibal said as he came out of the bathroom, "If we get snowed in here, we'll get our stay extended, and the _first_ night we can wade through the snow, we're sneaking out in the middle of the night."

"Sounds like a _very_ popular choice," Amy said as she took out a change of clothes and told Hannibal, "I'm going to go change into something dry."

"Thanks for the warning," Hannibal replied in a smart aleck tone.

"Make sure that door's locked," Amy told him.

"You really think somebody's going to try sneaking in here to kill us in our sleep?" Hannibal asked.

"_Yes_!" Amy replied as she shut the bathroom door between them.

Hannibal turned to an imaginary fourth wall and said, "Well it _is_ New York after all…" and went towards the door to bolt it.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal wondered what was keeping Amy. In the time she'd been in the bathroom getting ready for bed, he'd long since changed into a dry set of clothes himself. He even had time to hang his safari jacket over the old radiator in the room, and get it somewhat dried out before the bathroom door opened. Finally, Amy stepped out in a couple layers of thick clothes, socks and slippers, and she draped over the radiator the sweatshirt she'd been wearing, and the pants, and then draped over it, two pairs of socks _and_ a pair of pantyhose.

"You really _do_ come prepared, don't you?" he asked in a teasing manner.

"A reporter's job," Amy said, "When travel is part of the job, you quickly learn what you need for the elements you walk into."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Hannibal replied.

"The radiator's hot," Amy said as she held her hands over it as if trying to warm herself by a burn barrel out in the street, "So why are we so cold?"

"Because that radiator is only four feet high by five feet across," Hannibal said, "And this room is far larger, small and measly though it is, the heat gets lost in the trip around the room."

"Why don't we push the bed over towards it?" Amy asked, rubbing her hands.

As if he was giving it serious consideration, Hannibal tested the bedstead's mobility, but he told her, "Only one of us would be getting the heat, what're we going to do, rotate every hour like a deli chicken on a spit?"

"Be better than freezing, wouldn't it?" the young woman asked him.

He thought about it for a minute. "If we turn it to the side, we could at least keep our feet warm."

"Sounds good to me," Amy said, and moved to help Hannibal push the bed across the room, "I wish the others were here."

"Why?" Hannibal asked, "We still wouldn't be able to get out of here until morning."

"No," Amy agreed, "But, with more people we wouldn't have to be _so_ cold while we slept."

"You'll survive," he remarked.

"I _know_ that," Amy said, "But I still don't like it."

Hannibal gave a small laugh and told her, "I've got news for you, kid, nobody ever said you _had_ to."

"Did you lock the door?" Amy asked.

"Of course."

"Are you _sure_?"

"_Yes_."

"What about the window?" Amy asked.

"You didn't say to lock it," Hannibal replied cynically.

"Hannibal!"

"Amy!" he mocked her, and added, "If somebody was going to try coming in here to kill us, they would _not_ come through that window."

"How do you know?" Amy asked.

"Because," Hannibal answered self assuredly, "If somebody out _here_ was going to try killing us, it would be out of pure convenience because nobody here _knows_ us well enough to personally want us dead, and there is _nothing_ convenient about jimmying a window in a blizzard."

"Very funny, Hannibal," Amy dryly remarked.

"That's _not_ me being funny," Hannibal told her, "If I _was_, I'd say if somebody tried breaking in here and beating you in the head he'd break his club. Now come on, let's try and get some sleep."

"Sleep," Amy repeated tiredly, "Sounds good to me."

Each getting on opposite sides of the bed, they pulled down the top covers and climbed in on their own sides, Hannibal on the right, Amy on the left. The window was behind them, Amy willed herself not to look back towards it. The curtains were drawn, they couldn't see out, and she had to keep reminding herself, nobody could see _in_ either. She certainly _hoped_ not anyway. The door was locked, if anybody tried getting in, they would hear it, and that would give them time. Time. Amy knew that Hannibal had at _least_ one gun by likely more than that, in the room with them, in his bag for sure, for certain he had to have one within reach in the room right now. If anything happened…but she had to keep reminding herself, nothing _would_ happen. She _hoped_ not anyway.

"Will you stop that?" Hannibal asked snappily in response to the woman on the other side of the bed causing the mattress to vibrate under him. "Are you really _that_ scared?"

No. And it was the truth. She _was_ worried that those men from the radio report were out there somewhere, but _that_ was not why she couldn't stop shaking even under the covers. "No," she answered, "I'm just freezing."

"Oh," Hannibal reached over and grabbed his jacket and draped it over Amy's upper body for a little extra warmth, "There, that better?"

She shivered and her teeth chattered a little but she nodded and told him, "Thanks."

She felt Hannibal patting her through the covers and he told her, "Now go to sleep."

"You're not turning the light out, are you?" Amy asked him.

"No way," Hannibal replied as he laid down and jerked the covers up over himself, "Might give us a little extra heat. Besides, we've got no water and no food in this room, I'm not getting up out of this bed until morning for _anything_."

She was inclined to agree. The bed wasn't much warmer than the room in general, but the fact remained they _were_ warmer there than they would be getting out of bed.

"Hannibal," she said as something occurred to her, "What happens if we get snowed in here?"

"Hmm?" Hannibal sounded already half asleep, but he was still all there.

"What happens if it snows so much that we can't get out of here, and even if the guys get here, they can't get in to get us out either?" Amy asked him, "You said yourself, we don't have food here, the water's not working, what would we do?"

"Well I can think of a few things," he told the woman, "But I can already tell you wouldn't like them."

She turned and looked towards him and started to ask, "But what if it _does_ happen?"

"We'll worry about that _when_ it happens," Hannibal told her, "Until then let's go to sleep. I'm tired, and I'm sure you are too, besides, if we stand any chance of actually sleeping through the night, then we'll be able to find out sooner what we _are_ going to do than if we stay up all night talking about it."

Amy supposed he was right, still, she couldn't help it. Outside the roaring winds had started to slow and soften and eventually disappear altogether, but _now_ she could hear them roaring and whipping against the outside of the building again. She was just thankful they were in _here_ where it couldn't get them, so far anyway. Still, she couldn't help wondering if it was possible if those winds could get powerful enough to rip the motel apart. She wondered if it was possible the tornadoes from down south could come back up towards them. She _knew_ that realistically speaking, tornadoes weren't supposed to happen in the winter in the colder climates, but did that mean it was impossible? Tornado on top of a blizzard, that would be just perfect, _that_ would just be _fate_. Amy had no regrets about going out on jobs with the A-Team and being able to help them, but this was one time she was starting to wish she had just stayed home. It occurred to her that if she'd gone with _that_ instinct instead, she could be having a perfectly fine weekend complaining about having no place to go, and basking out in the warmth and sun while she did it; instead of being out here in the middle of a snowstorm trying to keep warm in two layers of clothes on top of a set of long thermal underwear. Compared to the weather back home, _this_ was just inhuman.

* * *

><p>Despite his attempts, Hannibal found he couldn't fall asleep. He probably spent half an hour trying, trying to get comfortable but <em>also<em> trying not to move around too much incase he'd wake Amy up. He couldn't put his finger on the problem. The overhead lights were bright but he'd gotten used to sleeping _out_ of the dark long ago, that wasn't the problem. The cold was still a major annoyance but he'd slept in the freezing cold as well, more times than he cared to remember, that wasn't it either. Amy was quiet, _that_ wasn't it either. So what was wrong? Why couldn't he sleep? For several minutes he lay flat on his back staring up at the ceiling, his arms folded tight against his chest, the fingers on one hand drumming steadily on the arm underneath it.

Finally, he couldn't take the silence any longer. "Amy?"

"What is it, Hannibal?" Amy asked, _too_ quickly and _too_ all there to just be waking up.

"Ah, you couldn't sleep either, eh?" Hannibal asked.

"Nope," Amy replied as she turned over under the covers.

"What's the matter?" he asked her.

"You first," she said as she looked over at him.

"Don't know."

"Fancy that, me too," she responded, "What time is it?"

He looked at his watch, "1:30."

"Gonna be a long night," Amy said, "I think I'd rather be in the tornado."

"Careful what you wish for," Hannibal told her, "You just might get it."

"At least it's warmer where the guys are," Amy said.

"Yeah," Hannibal responded, "But somehow I doubt they're getting anymore rest than we are."

"So," Amy looked to him, "What do we do now?"

"Mmm," Hannibal lay back and scratched his head, and looked to the ceiling, "If Murdock was here he could probably recommend watching the walls melt."

"Too cold for that," Amy pointed out.

"Doubt that'd stop Murdock though," Hannibal said, "Guess we could count the ceiling tiles."

"You can't be serious," Amy replied.

"Probably right," he responded.

Amy threw back the covers on her side and got out of bed and went over to her bag.

"What're you doing?" Hannibal asked.

"If I can't sleep," she said, "I guess it'll give me a chance to catch up on some reading."

Hannibal closed his eyes for a few seconds and didn't see but heard a very less than enthusiastic sound from the young reporter. "What's the matter?"

"Murdock must've switched on me," Amy said.

Hannibal opened his eyes to see what she was talking about and he saw her holding a large copy of Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allen Poe, in place of whatever book she'd packed for the trip.

Hannibal wasn't overly familiar with the stories Poe had written over his life and just asked, "He didn't do any stories involving blizzards, did he?"

"Does it matter?" Amy asked.

"It might," he replied.

Amy looked at him, clearly not amused, and told him, "You ought to know my nerves are frazzled enough right now that I don't need any correlation."

"I suppose that's true," Hannibal said.

Still, Amy was more restless than she was terrified of everything that was going on tonight. She took the book back to bed with her and re-submerged under the covers.

"Beautiful," Hannibal dryly grumbled to himself as he adjusted the covers on his side and looked back up to the ceiling to count the tiles.


End file.
